


total darkness

by seb



Series: touch [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: ? maybe, Angst, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Hand Jobs, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, Smut, Unrequited Crush, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-01-25 17:49:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12537704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seb/pseuds/seb
Summary: John gets the chance of a lifetime with his best friend's brother.▬▬▬What it says on the tin, but a little sadder.





	total darkness

**Author's Note:**

> In the same universe as "such a dream" but can be read separately!

“Relax.”

Relax. Relax, he says, lounging back on a pile of blankets and pillows on his bed, lit blunt in hand. Relax.

“I can hear you thinking,” Dirk says, softer this time. “That’s my job.”

You laugh, nervous. You’ve smoked before, of course. With him and Dave- pretty much the only time you’ve smoked is with the both of them there.

Both of them. In their living room, and not alone with Dirk on his bed, nearing two am because neither of you could sleep. Dave is passed out in his room, and a chance meeting over some orange juice in the kitchen landed you here.

Dirk’s taken two hits since you’ve started your crisis. You get touchy when you’re high, incredibly so. Touchy and verbose with no filter. It’s not safe, not without Dave to cover your tracks.

“Just… different, I guess,” you say. Your fingers are twisted into knots in your lap. You breathe deep, in and out. The moon is so high in the sky, Dirk’s tiny curtains billowing in the light breeze. Fuck, okay, stop looking out the window and having some weird poetic epiphany.

You put your hand out in a silent request. Dirk half-smiles, a smirk without the smugness, and carefully hands you the joint.

This part you know. You put it to your lips after exhaling, carefully and slowly taking a breath in. The smoke clouds your lungs but no longer brings tears to your eyes or a cough to your throat. You hold it in, Dirk taking the blunt from you to tap away the curling paper.

You blink your eyes open, not realizing you even closed them, before breathing out. Your skin is already warming up and you’d bet your dark cheeks are blossoming burgundy. Dirk is watching you as he takes another hit.

“You ever kissed a boy before?” Dirk says, and you bristle, both defensive and startled. This is… a rather sudden and personal question, isn’t it? Should you be offended?

“Not a real kiss,” you hear yourself answer. You immediately wants to smack yourself. What the fuck is a real kiss? Your real lips touched Dave’s real lips on the night of senior prom, tired and hyped on whatever cocktail of drinks you made at IHOP at three in the morning. In fact, your real dick touched Dave’s real dick while Dave mumbled about how hot you are and how much he loved you. That was all very real, John.

It makes Dirk chuckle, though. He sets the blunt down, beckoning you over. You immediately start fucking sweating, oh my god, it’s going to be pouring off of you by the time you make it the two feet over to Dirk.

He puts his hand on your neck and draws you in, and holy fuck his lips are soft against yours. You squeak in surprise, arms falling on either side of him to keep yourself up and stable. God forbid you go tumbling down and press your body to Dirk’s.

His lips part, and his tongue presses up to the seam of your lips and you open automatically, tentatively putting a hand on his hip and leaning in closer. He smiles against your mouth, lazily slinging his free arm over your shoulder while his hand slides into your hair. You’re kissing Dirk Strider. You’re kissing your best friend’s brother while he sleeps in the other room. Oh my god.

You part to breathe. “Oh my god,” you blurt out, and stare down at him. His lips are swollen red, cheeks flushed and breathing slow. He’s looking up at you with lidded eyes and you think you’re in heaven.

“Real enough for you?” he questions, and retracts his arm from your shoulder to grab the blunt. It’s right up in your face, which makes you flinch, but he’s quick to inhale and set it back down.

This time, he presses his thumb to your chin, pushing down until you part your lips. He presses his open mouth to yours and exhales, the smoke from his lungs making their way to your throat and forcing you to gasp in a breath. It burns but it’s so good, clouding your head in the most delicious way. You whine, sliding your hand up his side before deciding that’s not enough. You plant your knees next to his, straddling his stretched out legs and running your hands across his chest, feeling up his torso proper.

He groans at the contact, and your nerves light up. His nipples are hard through his shirt and you run your hands across them, squeeze them between your fingers. He gasps, the remaining smoke dissipating between you as he practically throws the blunt to the side and threads his fingers through your hair, kissing you hungrily. Every shift of his lips is more possessive, his legs bending and pressing against yours.

You scoot up to get closer to him, maneuvering your legs so you’re between his, and _oh_. His ankles cross lazily at the small of your back, his hands petting your hair so gently, and he practically moans when you start kissing along his jaw. You work your way down to his neck and he’s so pliant beneath your hands, warm and open to you. Your hands make their way down to the hem of his shirt shyly, and you lean back to look at his face.

“Fuck yes,” he groans out, pulling your head back to his neck, and you go. You suck at the skin below his ear as you slip your hands beneath his shirt. He shivers at your touch, arching off the bed. You feel like you’re on top of the world, hands skirting up his chest as your mouth works its way down to his collarbone.

He pushes you away suddenly, and your heart gets stuck in your throat. Did you hear him wrong? Misread him? He quickly pulls off his shirt and you see it as a blur in the corner of your vision before he’s tugging at yours, desperate.

“Dirk,” you say, voice deep and surprisingly steady. He stops immediately, hands falling next to his hips as he looks up at you. He’s so… “Good,” you praise, and he keens. You strip yourself of your shirt and look him in the eye as you set your hand on the button of your pants.

He stares at you, trying desperately not to make eye contact with your crotch. It’s cute.

“Yes or no, Dirk,” you say, high on a power trip. And, well, the weed. You almost forgot about that. More important things happening.

“Yes, please,” Dirk whines, reaching up to unbutton your pants himself before dropping his hands again, restless. You chuckle and undo them, shimmying until they’re around your knees.

This is a bit of a predicament, isn’t it? You shuffle to the side and flop down beside him, sticking your tongue out and furrowing your brow as you work your pants off, halfway there when you feel Dirks hand settle on your shoulder.

He’s looking at you desperately when you glance over, bottom lip between his teeth and hand settled obediently on his abdomen. Holy shit. He’s waiting for you to tell him what to do? Is that what’s going on right now? You’re going to cream your pants. Speaking of…

“Pants off,” you demand, though it’s shaky. He takes it and runs with it, flashstepping out of them you suppose, because one second his pants are on and the next they’re thrown over your lap onto the floor. He waits for you again, eyes taking in every inch of you.

Fuck, you probably look like a mess right now. But… Dirk’s the one that made you that way. And you made him look like he does now, rosy color blooming across his cheeks and down his chest, soft purple spots on his neck from where you gave it your attention (oops), stripped down to his pink boxers.

You snort. “Nice boxers.”

He turns a little to show you the back, which features a nice big kiss mark. Oh my god.

You instinctively reach out and put your hand where the kiss mark is. His breath hitches and he stares at you, a shudder running through him. Right, you just put your hand on his ass. Right.

“Relax,” you say, mimicking his words from before. He notices, lets out a laugh as he melts back into the sheets. You shuck your pants off the rest of the way and climb back over him, settled between his legs.

You pick up the blunt from his nightstand, almost burnt out, and take in one last hit. You discard the butt and find Dirk’s open mouth waiting for you. You lean down quick, pressing your mouth to his and exhaling. His hands come up to dig into your shoulders as he inhales, pulling you down closer. You drop to your elbows, accidentally grinding into his hip as you do and _fuck_ , you didn’t notice how hard you were until now. You are at full mast, land ahoy; you grind into his hip with more purpose now, and Dirk moans on his next exhale.

“Fuck, _John_ ,” he says, and there it is: that raspy voice, full of arousal, moaning your name from underneath you. All your wet dreams are coming true, this is going to be spank bank material for months.

You grab his hip with one hand, pulling him against you next time you grind down. He lets out these gorgeous little noises, grunting into your shoulder as you bite down on his. He’s scratching down your back like this is some raunchy porno and you couldn’t be more glad. The pain heightens your senses, lights up all your nerves. The weed’s kicking in, you realize, dazed. You suck another mark into his skin; you want him to feel this tomorrow, damn it.

Dirk’s hands come around to press against your chest, eyes wild. “Please,” he says, and you stop grinding against him to tilt your head in confusion. He groans, pulls you down to kiss at your jaw and lick the shell of your ear- now _that_ sends a hot tingle down your spine, god, what the fuck? “Wanna suck you off,” he murmurs, and if you weren’t aching for it before, you definitely are now.

“Shit,” you hiss as his hands fumble with the waistband of your boxers. You push them down to your thighs and hear Dirk mutter a “ _thank you_ ” under his breath before he’s pushing at your chest again, eyes wide and begging.

You’ve barely turned onto your side when he crawls down to situate himself between your thighs, pulling your boxers the rest of the way off and gripping your shaft. You gasp, reflexively reaching down to grab his hair. His face goes slack as he pushes up into your hand and brings your cock to his lips at the same time, drunk on arousal. He looks like a starving man who has found his greatest salvation in your crotch.

“Dirk,” you groan, and he takes it as invitation to slide you into his mouth. Fuck, it’s amazing; wet, soft heat that you’ve never felt before enveloping you. His lips stretch around you, tongue twitching on the underside of your cock and eyes fluttering closed. He’s blissed out, drool gathering at his lips and cheeks red.

“You look so fucking gorgeous,” you hear yourself say, and Dirk moans around you. His ass hikes up into the air and his hand disappears between his legs and _fuck_ if him getting off to your dick in his mouth isn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

He manages to work some suction into his rhythmical movements, sliding his mouth up and down all he can manage and jerking off the rest with all the spit that has collected from his ministrations. He moans when your hands grip tight in his hair, pulling as your hips buck as to not choke him. This… seems to dissatisfy him, however. He rests his hands on your hips and stretches his jaw wider, pushing his head up against your hand. You thrust shallowly, unsure if that’s what he wanted, when he moans so loud you have to pet his hair and remind him to keep quiet.

“Wouldn’t want Dave to wake up,” you say, thrusts getting more solid as you maneuver his mouth to how you want it. He goes willingly, curling his fingers into your skin as he tongues at your dick, sucking on the tip whenever you pull out far enough to give him the chance to. “Don’t want him to see you gagging on my cock, do you?”

His brow furrows and he ruts against the sheets. You watch his hips move as you fuck his mouth and lose yourself in the sensation, heat coiling in your abdomen and fingers threading through his hair. He’s still making noise around you, whining when you pause so he can suck you proper and keening when you fuck his throat and make him choke. His eyes open, locked dead on yours, tears finally spilling down his cheeks, and you lose it.

“Fuck,” you say, and arch off the bed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You pull his hair and it’s the only warning you can give before you spill into his mouth, the hardest you’ve ever come in your life, and Dirk just sinks down and swallows around you, licking you from hilt to tip as you breathe in gulps of air and try not to shout his name.

“Come here,” you command, and he sits up, crawling into your lap. You shove your fingers in his mouth despite knowing exactly where it’s been, spreading his lips. He whines, confused and fuckdrunk, as he ruts down on your oversensitive dick. You groan and remove your fingers from his mouth to stick them in his boxers and wrap them around his leaking cock, working your hand around him roughly.

“ _John_ ,” he moans, gripping onto your shoulders and fucking weakly into your fist, tears still making their way down his face as you jerk him off. He looks so fucking pretty, almost bouncing in your lap and biting his lip to cut off his cries. He leans forward to kiss you, panting against your mouth when he comes. He murmurs a mantra of your name after his initial grunt, pulling you closer and tucking his face in your neck.

“Cuddler, huh?” you tease, wiping your hand on his boxers, which now sports a spreading stain on the front.

He hums, wrapping his legs around your waist to squish your torsos together- _and his cummy crotch on your navel, thanks, Dirk_ \- and nuzzles your neck some more, pressing his lips against your skin.

You rub his back, resting your chin on his shoulder. It’s much too warm and you’re extremely exhausted, suddenly. Probably the aftereffects of nutting harder than you ever had in your life. You will never have a better orgasm than you just had. Dirk Strider worked his mouth magic on you and pulled out all the stops.

And now it’s… stopped. You remember that this is probably just a thing that will happen when Dirk is high and alone with you. The remnants of the smoke from the blunt linger in the air. Tomorrow will come and wash this all away. Dirk will look at you, knowingly, teasingly, and everything will be the same. You can never tell him how you feel. Does he know already? Is that why he did this?

“You’re thinking again,” Dirk says into your neck, and you sigh. You hug him close, squeezing your eyes shut. You don’t want to ruin this moment.

“It’s okay, John,” he continues, locking his ankles behind your back. You never realized how flexible and light he was until he was sitting in your lap. You’ll miss the feeling.

“Relax,” he says again. You do, and laugh. He’s such a dork. But so are you. So maybe, just maybe…

Your alarm blares.

You sit up in bed, uncomfortable stickiness between your legs. Oh my god.

That’s your desk, and your window, and your phone on your bedside table. The time reads nine o’clock in the morning.

You sigh, rubbing your aching neck. Slept the wrong way- while you had a fucking wet dream about your best friend’s brother, right. You shift as you sit up and the feeling between your legs is warm and wet and you _hate_ it, god, what are you, twelve?

Thankfully you don’t have to face your dad with your shame present and obvious as you shuffle awkwardly to the bathroom connected to your room. This was supposed to be Dirk’s walk of shame, not yours.

Turning on the shower, you think back to your dream. Dirk’s lips against yours, his skin warm and smooth, the weight of him on your lap, the way he looked beneath you. Everything was so vivid and clear, how could your mind have conjured that up? How could it betray you like this? Do you really want Dirk so badly you go to desperate measures like imagining the entire scenario that is physical intimacy from cause to effect in your sleep?

Apparently so. Stripping and stepping under the spray, you do his best to forget his eyes and the tender way he touched you. You forget his mouth and his hands, his body under your control and command, and let it wash away.

You’ll see Dave in about half an hour on your walk to class. You’ll have to look at him and his bleach-blond hair, his tan skin and freckles, and do your very best not to think of how you came down his brother’s throat in your dreams last night.

You squeeze your eyes shut and groan into your hands as you rub them down your face.

In more than one way, it seems you are well and truly fucked.

**Author's Note:**

> Catch that unrequited John/Dave if you squint
> 
> Catch me on tumblr @ testifyds!


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